


And Time is Never Planned

by thewulf (Aloha4Ever)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloha4Ever/pseuds/thewulf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land!” ― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan: Fairy Tales</p><p>I am starting a multi-chapter Captain Hook story to fill in some missing pieces of his time in Neverland after the fatal encounter with, up until his return to the Enchanted Forest before the Dark Curse was cast. The “Neverbacks” will be interspersed with the tale of Killian Jones and Milah’s romance. There will be some hints of future Captain Swan. </p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Thousand Pieces

"When the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies." ― J.M. Barrie,  _Peter Pan._

***

_She had caught his eye shortly after he had entered the tavern with his crew—the dark-haired pretty maiden who worked there. She had a weary air about her, and appeared to be slightly older than the typical woman who worked at such establishments. When one of his men had accidentally bumped into her as she walked past carrying a large jug of beer, she had scowled at him with a fierce expression that had the pirate stepping back with a smirk and an, “Apologies!”_

_He found his attention drifting to her frequently, her dangling earrings brushing against the apple of her cheeks as she served ale and rum to inebriated customers, cleaned up soiled tables, and occasionally disappeared behind a door on some errand. Giving in to curiosity or whatever impulse that was making him fixate on her, Killian Jones sauntered up to the bar with his empty tankard and placed it on the counter with a thud. Her back was turned to him, busy at a chore behind the counter._

_“Greetings!” he said. The maiden turned around with an indifferent expression, which immediately morphed into a look of mild interest upon seeing his face. Even though she was not dressed in fine clothes, the woman looked even lovelier up close. Her dark hair had a copper sheen to it, and the burnish was heightened by the metal hairclips she had worn to keep stray locks in place. Her eyelashes were curled to perfection._

_“I tend to have that effect,” Killian said with a smirk, pointing to his face. Clothed in fine leather and a red velvet vest, and with kohl that accentuated his sparkling blue eyes and dark hair, Killian Jones knew he cut quite the figure. “Most women find my devilishly handsome looks quite irresistible.”_

_“You seem to have an excellent opinion of yourself, sir,” she said. “For my part however, I tend not to find random strangers who visit the tavern ‘irresistible’.” Despite her words, a fine blush tinged her fair countenance, and he felt encouraged to continue._

_“I have been remiss. Allow me to introduce myself: Captain Killian Jones of the Jolly Roger at your service!” he said with a flourish. Although it had been less than two years since Captain Jones had commandeered a ship of his kingdom’s royal navy and taken to piracy, his ship and his crew had managed to acquire the reputation for reckless dare-devilry and matchless agility. There was a definite intrigued gleam in the maiden’s eyes now, but she merely nodded. Captain Jones raised his eyebrows._

“ _Aren’t you going to tell me your name, love? Isn’t that only fair, considering you now know mine?”_

 _“Do you ask the name of every tavern wench who serves you strong ale,_ Captain _?” she asked smiling, emphasizing the title as though she did not believe him to be one._

“ _Not at all—only the most beautiful ones…”_

_“Beauty is fleeting. Something you are too young to comprehend, perhaps…” There was a slight edge of bitterness to her words which surprised him. His answer seemed to have displeased her, even though he did not understand why, and wanted to learn more about her._

_“Come now, darling! You don’t seem old enough to be spouting such words any more than myself. Besides, aren’t such matters better discussed sitting down? Would you join me over a pint of ale?”_

_“If you haven’t noticed, Captain, I have customers to serve, and very little time to discuss idle philosophy with ha… pirates.”_

_She looked a little flustered, and had caught herself in time, it appeared. What had she been about to say, Killian wondered._

_“Time is what we make of it, lass, and that is particularly true of a pirate. I for one would consider it entirely wasted if this conversation is to be our last.”_

_She rolled her eyes at his quip, and smiled reluctantly. “Do such words usually have women swooning at your feet, sir?”_

_“Does this mean you will have a drink with me?” countered the captain in a hopeful tone._

_“I said no such thing,” she said laughing and shaking her head, dislodging some strands of her coppery hair from their pins. Holding her gaze, Killian slowly reached over the counter to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. They stood staring at each other for a long moment._

_Killian finally opened his mouth to say something and break the silence, when a portly middle-aged man ambled up from behind a doorway. Catching sight of the pair, he immediately said, “Milah! I’m not paying you to gossip with the customers. Get on with your work!” Killian immediately shot her a look of triumph at having found her name out. A hint of a smile and a tinge of red colored her cheeks as she silently refilled his empty tankard with ale, and handed it to him. As the captain took the tankard from the maiden, their fingers brushed lightly. He felt a spark jolt through his fingers where they had briefly touched hers. He looked up to see her gazing back at him with startled eyes, and knew that she had felt it too._

_“So,_ Milah _,” he said leaning forward and whispering in her ear, “Finish your work, and come join me at my table. If you do not care to discuss philosophy, perhaps we could find other more…_ interesting _matters to converse on.”_

_She turned away with a smile she could not hide, and Captain Killian Jones walked back to his table with a feeling of delighted anticipation in his bones. He felt as excited as on the day he had led the Lord Chancellor’s beautiful young daughter Rosie up to the dance-floor as a freshly minted lieutenant of the King’s Navy._

***

Captain Killian Jones was on his way back to the shores of Neverland, where the Jolly Roger was anchored. Still sporting his characteristic black leather outfit and inevitable good looks, the captain had nevertheless undergone quite a bit of transformation from his early days of piracy. For one, he had a sharp metal hook in the place of his left hand. There were other less visible scars that marred his soul.

On this particular evening, he had been to visit Tinker Bell, a petite ex-fairy who lived in a Tree-house within the dark woods of the Island. Tink had arrived on the island fairly recently, and the pirate had taken to visiting her often, finding her company a welcome distraction after too much time spent cooped up with his crew on the ship. As he heard the distant blast of the ship’s horn announcing sunset, he quickened his pace—he had dallied longer than usual.

Not that time meant much in this realm. Time stood still in Neverland. While one day inevitably led to another, those who dwelt there never aged. 200 and odd years were marked in the Ship’s Log, but a haze about the mind kept people from full awareness of the state of stasis, and going mad in consequence. As he approached the edge of the woods where he could catch glimpses of the sandy stretches of the beach through gaps between the trees, Hook heard an overly bright adolescent voice hailing him.

“Captain Hook!”

The pirate stopped in his tracks and turned around to find Pan leaning against a tree with a condescending grin on his lips. Tall and lean in appearance—the ring-leader of the Lost Boys, and the undisputed power of Neverland—Pan hid his unstable personality behind a beguiling smirk. Pan had referred to Killian Jones as “Captain Hook” ever since the former had returned to Neverland. Over time, its use had spread among the Lost Boys, and taken root to the point where several members of his crew now called him by that moniker. The captain disliked Pan almost as much as he despised the Crocodile.

“What does a pirate need to do to get some privacy around here?” he muttered with irritation.

“Come, come, Captain! Is that how you greet an old pal?” asked Pan, and quirked an eyebrow up. Hook could see that Pan was enjoying himself. In all the time he had spent in Neverland, Killian had come face-to-face with Pan only on rare occasions, and none of those had portended any good.

“Is there anything in particular you wanted to talk to me about? I need to get back at my ship,” said Hook.

“Why? Did you dally too long in your new girl friend’s twee house? Afraid your men will commandeer your ship and fly away?” Pan taunted in babyish voice that increased the irritation Hook was feeling, despite knowing that the boy hoped to get a rise out of him.

“What do you want?” asked Hook, pulling out a small hip-flask from his coat and taking a swig of rum. Pointing the flagon at Pan, he said, “You are probably not old enough to drink this yet, or I would offer it to you.”

Pan glanced at the flask briefly with a half-mocking look, and said, “I didn’t come here to discuss your drinking habits. I heard you were looking for a passage off Neverland, and that’s what I’m here to talk about.”

“What makes you think I am looking for a way off the Island?” Hook asked with feigned casualness.

“For one thing, adults seem to get bored in Neverland; probably their utter lack of imagination has something to do with it. Besides, I was told you were looking to get off the Island. I am quite well-informed on your activities!”

“I know you like to appear all-knowing Pan, but it’s not difficult to guess where you got this information: from Tinker Bell. My crew knows better than to talk to you.” Hook knew that Tinker Bell was on friendly terms with Pan, and that Pan trusted her. God knew why.

“Yeah, especially as they are normally too busy running away from my gang of boys with their tails between their legs,” taunted Pan with a sneer.

Ever since Hook and his crew had arrived on the isolated realm, they had kept to the ship for the most part, with only the occasional shore-visit to hunt game meat, collect fresh fruits, or replenish the ship’s fresh water supply. The crew had always been particularly loath to step foot on the Island, considering they never knew what they might encounter: the heart-rending cries of children freshly brought by the Shadow, or seasoned Lost Boys bent on treating their hunting expeditions as an opportunity to engage them in “games.” Both were equally disconcerting. The hunters inevitably became the hunted on the latter occasions, and the sailor who managed to snag a wild boar unscathed was granted special respite from duties for a week.

However, Hook was not one to let old grudges stand in the way, if it meant he would finally be able to get back to the Enchanted Forest. Therefore, he asked, “And what if I do want to leave this Island—are you offering to help?”

“Actually, I am offering you a deal. Care to listen?”

“The last time I listened to you, Liam died. Why would I make a deal with you now?”

“If memory serves me right, your brother died precisely because you refused to listen to me. You were unwilling to pay the price the Island demanded.” On that occasion, Pan had conveniently disappeared before explaining what the price had been, proving fatal to Liam. The loss of his brother, with the knowledge of their King’s betrayal, had pushed Killian into rebellion, and had led him to choose a life of piracy and defiance, over loyalty to a dishonorable sovereign.

“Was it the Island, or was it you, I wonder,” said Hook. He had come a long way from being the young lieutenant desperate to pay any price to save his brother’s life, but too naïve to understand the power-play and mind-games of corrupt kings and Dark magical beings.

“You wound me, Captain,” said Pan, touching his hand to his heart with mock-sorrow.

Hook gave him a hard, speculative look, and said, “You are trying my patience, Pan. Get on with what you were saying.”

“I want you to work for me. There are some tasks I need done outside Neverland, and you suit my purposes admirably. If you do, I will give you and your crew safe passage back to your realm.”

“If I work for you, you will provide me and my crew passage back to the Enchanted Forest?” repeated Hook slowly, making sure he had heard right.

“See how smart you can be when you are concentrating! That’s why I’m choosing you for this job. So, do you agree to my deal?”

“Not so fast! These days, I make it a point not to agree to a deal before fully knowing what it entails. What is it exactly that you want me to do?”

“The first thing I want you to do is go to a certain sea-realm, and retrieve an enchanted Seeing Stone for me.”

“What Realm?? And what do you need this Seeing Stone for?” asked Hook, raising an eyebrow, and taking another draught of rum.

“I’ll tell you all about it _if_ you agree to do the job.”

“Why not go yourself, or send one of your lads?”

“Why would I go when I can get someone else to do the job for me? My lads are not particularly sure-footed around enchantments and magical creatures, and whatever your faults, Captain, at least you are resourceful, and adept at taking things that don’t belong to you.”

Hook’s lips curled into a sneer. “That I am. So, in essence, you want me to risk my neck to get you a trinket?”

Pan merely grinned.

“Bloody marvelous!” said Hook, rolling his eyes. “Once I acquire this object for you, will that be all?”

“Not quite. After you get back, I might have another job for you. That depends on the success of your mission. Once you have completed both tasks successfully, I will let you go.”

“Hypothetically speaking, what makes you so sure I’ll bother coming back to this god-forsaken Island? I could just stay behind in this wonderful sea-realm you are sending me to.”

“Stay behind, and give up on your revenge?” asked Pan, raising one eye-brow high on his forehead.

Hook gave a start, but remained silent.

A seagull wailed somewhere.

“Yes, I know all about it, Hook! You crave vengeance almost as desperately as you cling to your ship. After all, that’s all you have left of the only two people who ever loved you.”

“Bugger off…” said Hook, starting to lose his temper again. “Maybe I’ll just find myself a portal to the Enchanted Forest from this sea-realm, and I’ll never have to see your sorry face again.”

“You’d better calm yourself, and listen to me, if you _ever_ want to leave Neverland. If you try to escape to the Enchanted Forest, I’ll personally make sure you don’t get your revenge. And, as an added inducement to keep you from playing _hooky_ on me when you’re off doing jobs, I’d like to remind you that certain people you care about will be at _my_ mercy while you’re gone.”

“And you think I’d care about what happens to my crew once I leave?” After such a frustratingly long and futile time spent in Neverland, Hook wasn’t even sure anymore that he would care enough about the fate of his men if he had the chance to leave the Island for good. Leaving the Jolly Roger behind was another thing, however.

“I rather think you do care, despite your protestations, _Captain_. However, I wasn’t thinking about them.” Pan gave him a sly look, and said, “I was thinking of a certain Lost Boy you left under my care a while ago.”

“What have you done with Baelfire?” demanded Hook, with sudden alertness, moving closer to Pan.

“The question you should be asking is what I will do to him if you stay away. Remember Dreamshade, and what happened to your brother…”

Hook had cut him off before Pan could finish the sentence, and he had the boy pinned against the trunk of the nearest tree, with his arm pressing down his wind pipe, and the sharp end of his hook at his throat.

“You manipulative son of a demon-spawn!” said Hook, shaking with rage. Pan simply vanished from Hook’s grip, and reappeared behind him.

“Merely a warning, captain,” said Pan. Hook turned around to face Pan again, as the boy continued, “If you don’t come back, Baelfire dies, and that will be one more death to add to the burden of your conscience.” His voice had shifted from its mocking tone to a more serious, angry one.

Hook made an effort to control himself. He could not afford to antagonize Pan, and lose what could be only chance to leave Neverland for good.

“That’s better! You want something from me, you learn to play by _my_ rules,” said Pan. “So, are you willing to take my deal or not? I won’t be repeating the offer!”

“Alright,” Hook ground out, “—I’ll take your deal, but you better make good on your end of the bargain, do you understand?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll keep my word, as long as you keep yours. Meet me back here tomorrow, and be ready to leave. I’ll give you more details about your journey.” Hook merely nodded in reply.

Pan grinned suddenly, his anger seemingly gone, and waved his hand over Hook’s flask. It briefly glowed white.

“If you wanted to poison me, you could have at least waited until my back was turned,” said Hook, scoffing.

“Just doing you a favor!” said Pan, indicating the flask. “You won’t have to worry about running out of your favorite beverage while you are traveling.” Hook raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Pan.

Captain Hook walked off to the sound of Pan’s farewell shout, and the cries of seagulls. He had not felt this hopeful in a long time. At long last, there was a chance that he would be able leave this cursed Island for good, and return to the Enchanted Forest. He would skin his Crocodile, and finally avenge Milah’s death… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my wonderful beta, anywhoozles, without whose diligence and prodding, this chapter would not be up to Good Form. And thanks to InsertWordHere for suggesting I pick a quote from Barrie for the title of the story--I think I found the perfect one! :-)


	2. Would You Like An Adventure Now?

“Would you like an adventure now,” he said casually to John, “or would you like to have your tea first?” —J.M. Barrie, _The Adventures of Peter Pan_

***

_Captain Jones was in the middle of a game of dice with his crew when Milah walked over, a fresh jug of beer in her hand. He immediately scooted down the bench to make room for her. His crew members cheered as they refilled their tankards._

_“I see you know how to please a sailor, love!” said Killian, and winked._

_“I knew it wouldn’t require much effort,” she retorted, and several of the men guffawed._

_“As smart as you are beautiful,” said Killian, smirking. He poured some beer into an empty tankard for her, and said, “Cheers!”_

_She took a deep drink and set the mug down on the table with a sigh, wiping the froth from her lips._

_Killian raised an eyebrow, grinned at her, and said, “Well done, lass!”_

_He then counted her out five pieces of die, and said, “Ready to play?”_

_“What are we playing?”_

_“Liar’s Dice. Have you ever played it?”_

_She shook her head. He gave her a brief explanation of the rules of the game._

_“Each player starts with five dice. We roll them in these cups right here and keep them hidden,” he said and passed her a short wooden tumbler. “The first player takes a look at their roll and makes a bid on the value of any of the dice on the table. The next player either raises the bid or challenges the first one as a liar. After a challenge, we look at the values, and declare the winner for that round.”_

_The next hour went by pleasantly in a blur of booze and games. The captain seemed the best player, winning several rounds._

_When Milah had lost five successive rounds of bids, she exclaimed in frustration, “How do you keep winning? What is your secret?”_

_He leaned close to her ear, his lips lightly brushing against stray coppery curls. Killian felt her tremble slightly. He whispered, “Loaded dice. Oh, and knowing how to lie. That way, the odds are always in your favor.”_

_“But that’s cheating!” she whispered back._

_“And I’m a pirate, darling,” he said and winked at her._

_“Then why aren’t you winning all the rounds?” she challenged._

_“The other secret is to pace your wins. That way, you won’t get found out,” he said, and grinned at her. She smiled back at him with a shake of her head. She really was so lovely, thought Killian._

_As they played, Killian and his crew recounted somewhat embellished tales from their various voyages, including encounters with rival pirates, and royal ships of their former kingdom of Eorn._

_“The last time we boarded a royal Eorn ship, it was nigh on a month ago,” said Haggerston, the first mate of the Jolly Roger. This was not the first story he had narrated that evening. Liquor tended to make him loquacious. “The captain was naught but a lowly ensign the last time I saw him. We used to call him Skeevy-Tom. He always got ahead by kissing ass. To see him preening about in captain’s uniform… We soon made short work of him and his crew, didn’t we?”_

_The sailors laughed, and some of them banged their mugs up and down on the table._

_“What did you do to them?” asked Milah in a slightly apprehensive voice._

_Killian gave a quick glance at her, and said, “Don’t worry; we spared their miserable lives. We merely took every scrap of cloth that was on board, including the ones off their backs, and sunk it to the depths of the ocean.”_

_“You did not!” said Milah in stunned amusement, and started laughing helplessly._

_“Yes, we did,” said Haggerston, proudly. “We heard later that they’d cut up some of the sails to make makeshift coverings for themselves.”_

_Grinning down at Milah, Killian put his hand on her waist and drew her slightly closer. She did not object. He kept his hand on her waist as they played a few more rounds._

_It grew darker outside. Candles were being lit inside the tavern. Some of the sailors drifted off, seeking company for the night. Haggerston was fast asleep, resting his face on his arm and snoring softly. Milah asked Killian to describe some of the realms her had seen in his travels, and listened in fascination as he told her about distant lands such as Agrabah and Arendelle, the exotic fruits from different places, and unique treasures he had found._

_“Is it really true that there are snake-people in Agrabah?” she asked._

_“Not true in the least. However, the land does have many varieties of deadly snakes, including two-headed ones.”_

_“Oh!” said Milah, and shivered. She added, with a wistful expression on her face, “I’ve always wanted to travel.”_

_“Never too late to start, love” he said, and gently squeezed her waist._

_She shook her head, and said, “Easy for you to say. You are a pirate.”_

_“Aye—but I was not always one.”_

_She glanced up at him quickly, and he gave her another easy smile._

_At that moment, a short slightly built-man passing by their table stopped and addressed Milah with, “What are you still doing here?”_

_“Playing Liar’s Dice. What does it look like to you, Wilson?” asked Milah. Some of the men snickered. Haggerston woke up with a loud snort._

_“You know what I meant,” said the man, Wilson. “Rumple was looking for you.”_

_“What a surprise!” said Milah, with an eye-roll._

_Wilson glanced down briefly at Killian’s hand on Milah’s waist, and looked disapprovingly at her. Killian felt her stiffen beside him and twist her hips lightly. Not wishing to make her uncomfortable, he gently let go of her. He took a sip of beer, and asked casually, “Who is Rumple?”_

_“Just my husband,” answered Milah, still looking at the man._

_“Look, Milah,” said Wilson, “I know you’re still angry with him, but, really, he only did it…”_

_“Did I say I was in the mood for a lecture?” asked Milah, interrupting him. Turning to Killian, she said “Roll the dice. I want to play another round.”_

_Wilson started to speak again, when Killian interrupted him, and said, “Move along, now. The lady’s busy. Or do you need more convincing?”_

_It just seemed to strike the man that he was in the presence of pirates. Apparently, he had been too intent on advising Milah to notice her company. With a hasty, “No… No!” Wilson beat a speedy retreat._

_They started playing again, but it was clear that Milah was distracted. Killian glanced at her from time to time, but said nothing. After a short while, she got up and said, “Well, I ought to go.”_

_“It’s dark. Let me escort you home,” said the captain, getting up as well._

_“No, thank you,” said Milah, “I’ll be fine.”_

_“I insist,” said Killian, and after a significant look at Haggerston, accompanied Milah out of the tavern._

_As they stepped outside, they bumped into someone just entering the tavern. The man seemed somewhat inebriated. He looked Killian up and down, and then turned to Milah._

_“Really, Mi..laah?” he slurred. “Taking up with pirates? Why, I could’ve shown you a good time any day! It’s still not too late—I promise you, I don’t have_ accidents _before the climax of the battle,” he said and leered at her._

_Milah’s lips twisted in a disgusted grimace, and she responded with, “I’m sure your wife will be happy to hear that.”_

_“Unlike your husband, I’m a sodding war-hero, my dear. I can practically do anything I want,” he said, and stumbled closer to her._

_Killian stepped in front of Milah, and pushed the man against the tavern-wall, his hand pressing a knife against his throat._

_“Apologize to the lady!” he said._

_The man struggled and cursed at them._

_“Just let him go!” said Milah to Killian._

_“I will,_ once _he apologizes,” said the captain. After a further brief, but futile struggle, the man mumbled an apology to Milah. Killian let him go._

_“You really should not have done that,” said Milah, and started to walk away from the tavern._

_“And let him get away with talking like that?” asked Killian indignantly, catching up to her._

_“What, you think you’re some kind of white knight come to rescue me?” asked Milah, turning toward him furiously._

_“What are you talking about?” asked Killian, taken aback._

_“You and your crew will be gone tomorrow, and I’ll be left facing that bastard by myself.”_

_Killian raised an eyebrow, and after a brief silence, asked, “What was that about your husband?”_

_“My husband maimed himself on purpose so he would be let go before the battle against the Ogres. A Seer told him he would die or something. So, now, he’s the Town Coward in a village where every other man either died in war or came back a hero,” she said bitterly._

_“So you work at the Tavern, and he…?”_

_“He sits at home and spins all day. And_ I _am left to face the villagers’ taunts and lectures.”_

_“I am sorry, love,” said Killian gently as he walked by her side._

_“I am too…” said Milah, still with the same bitter note in her voice. After a minute, she added in a more normal tone, “I didn’t mean to take out my anger at you.”_

_“That’s alright,” said the captain. “We all need to let off steam sometime.”_

_They walked on for several minutes in silence. It was dark but for the occasional light blinking through the windows of dwellings they passed._

_“We’re close to where I live. I can get home by myself now,” said Milah._

_They stopped._

_Milah spoke again. She asked, “So, when are you and your crew sailing out?”_

_“We’ll be filling up on supplies tomorrow, and most likely, leave the day after,” Killian replied._

_Milah nodded her head._

_“Will I see you at the tavern tomorrow?” she asked again, apparently unwilling to end the conversation._

_“Me and my crew will be there, of course,” he replied. He then lifted her hand and placed a chaste kiss on the back. She looked at him with wide, startled eyes._

_“Until tomorrow, then,” he said._

_“Until tomorrow,” she said, and walked away._

_Killian walked back to tavern slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face._

***

Hook had left Haggerston in charge of the ship. He was the only member of the crew who knew of Hook’s deal with Pan. The hardy old sailor had offered to accompany Hook on his quest. But the latter had preferred to leave his most trusted crew member in command of the Jolly Roger in his absence. The rest of the crew merely knew that the captain would be gone for a short while, and were smart enough not to ask prying questions.

Hook found Pan waiting for him by the edge of the forest, leaning against a tree in a casual stance. The boy was clad in his typical leafy-green fitted outfit, and was playing a haunting melody on a harmonica. As he walked up to the lad, a sudden childhood memory flashed before Killian’s eyes. He was seven, and burning up with a fever… Liam was scooping him up in his arms and placing him on a cot… he was applying a wet cloth to his forehead… Liam’s voice was reassuring: “ _You’ll be well soon, little brother! I’m here to take care of you_ …” Hook’s eyes were dazzled by sudden tears. Unwilling for Pan to see them, he bent down to the ground, and pretending to look for something he had dropped, surreptitiously wiped his eyes.*

As he straightened back up, he saw Pan looking at him with his usual all-knowing smirk. For once, the pirate felt mildly disconcerted. He shrugged-off the feeling however, and proceeded towards the boy. 

“Are you ready to go?” asked Pan.

“Yes, I am. Are you ready to give me more details?”

Instead of replying directly, Pan snapped his fingers and a scroll appeared in his hands. He held it out to Hook. The pirate took the parchment, and unfurled it with his hook. It was a map of an isolated island, about ten times the size of Neverland. The name “Lemuria” was written on top in cursive. A few rivers and woods were depicted on the island, and significantly, a large town marked with buildings, streets, and waterways.

“This is the Island-realm of Lemuria. It’s been well-hidden from prying eyes for millennia, and holds many secrets,” said Pan. He then pointed to a prominent black dot on the north-eastern border of the island and continued, “ _That_ is the Temple of Sight, which holds the Seeing Stone I desire to possess. In the right hands, it can help direct one’s destiny.” There was a mad gleam in the boy’s eyes as he spoke. Hook knew that Pan’s long-standing habit of “collecting” Lost Boys had some hidden purpose behind it, but on the few times Hook had attempted to get the reasons out of Pan, he had not been successful.

“Couldn’t you conjure up a Seeing Stone with pixie-dust and magic like you do everything else?” asked Hook, skeptically.  

“As you well know, Time does not flow in Neverland. That means even _I_ can’t create things to do with the uncertain art of predicting, or directing, the future,” said Pan.

“Hmm…”said Hook, noncommittally. He could sense an undercurrent of anger at Pan’s admission. The boy clearly did not like admitting that even Neverland had its limitations.

“How well is this object guarded?”

Pan tapped on the back of the parchment, and this time a building plan appeared. It depicted a series of structures arranged geometrically around a central edifice, all of those enclosed by an outer wall.

He said, “This is a plan of the temple. An armed guard patrols the outer walls. How you get past them is up to your ingenuity. Once inside, look for this building at the very center. The Stone itself is guarded by a race of creatures called the Nagas. They are like mermaids, except they are part-serpent in appearance.”

“Marvelous! Was me returning alive ever a part of this plan?”

“As long as you can use your brains, and can hold a tune.”

Hook raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Pan gestured to the harmonica in his hand and said, “I have enchanted this harmonica to play a special tune. When you play it, it’ll put the Nagas into a brief sleep.”

He held the instrument out to Hook.

“Hold on,” said Hook, and folded the parchment and put it inside a satchel he had brought along. He had forsaken his long coat and red velvet vest in favor of a black vest, but had otherwise kept to the customary leather pants and cotton inner-shirt. A cutlass hung from a scabbard on his hip.

Hook took the harmonica from Pan, and blew into its mouthpiece experimentally. Immediately, a high-pitched melody filled the air. He raised his eyebrows, a little taken aback. He had not attempted to play any tune.

“You don’t have to strain your vocal chords, captain. You just need to blow into the instrument, and it will do the job. The spell for the enchanted sleep won’t hold for long. So, make sure to stay hidden, and get out as soon as you retrieve the Stone,” said Pan.

He then took out two tiny glowing beans from a pouch, and went on, “You’ve used a Magic Bean before. These ones work the same way. They will open passages to and from Lemuria, but they won’t work as a portal to any other realm,” warned Pan. “Think hard of the wooded area near the Temple as you walk through the Portal. To come back, use the second Bean the same way, only think of Neverland. I’ll meet you back on this spot. If you make it back alive, I would like to get the Stone from you before you do anything else.”

“How big is the Seeing Stone?” asked Hook, tucking away the harmonica and one of the two portal-beans.

Pan eyed the satchel and said, “It will fit right enough in that bag. Did you have anything useful in it, like a rope or two?”

“Aye!” replied Hook.

“Good. Well… that’s about all. Let’s hope you’re successful, both for your sake, and mine! If you come back without the Stone, you might as well forget about ever returning to the Enchanted Forest again. ” said Pan.

Hook merely scowled. How typical of the boy to stay in Neverland, even as he sent someone else to do his dirty work. He then threw the Magic Bean he held in his hand on the ground. A glowing portal opened in front of him. It was just large enough to squeeze through. Thinking hard on his destination, Hook stepped through.

***

The portal closed as soon as Killian walked through it. He seemed to have landed in a wooded area, presumably the one by the Temple. Hook pulled out his flask, and took a draft of rum while observing his surroundings. The forest was dark and musty, and he could hear the chirping of insects and the occasional scurrying footfall of small creatures. It was almost oppressively hot. As he peered up through the thick branches, Killian saw glimpses of a grayish blue sky through the tall branches. The thick canopy cut off most of the dusky light, making it seem almost like nightfall.

Using a compass to orient himself with respect to the map, Hook started walking northward in the direction of the Temple’s location. After a trek of about an hour or so, he noticed the trees starting to thin out; the air was becoming less dank as well. Soon, he was at the forest-edge and Killian stopped, wiping the sweat off his brows. Trying to make as little noise as possible, and keeping a careful lookout, Killian drew closer to the border, and peered around a tree trunk. Amidst the flickering lights of torches, Killian saw an imposing stone structure ahead of him. That had to be the Temple of Sight. The outer wall was covered with intricate carvings, and although it wasn’t very high, he could see nothing beyond.

Sliding his satchel to his back, Hook looked for a tree that was reasonably tall and seemed able to bear his weight. Using his hook for leverage, he climbed up to get a better view. He pulled out his telescope and made careful observation. The entrance of the temple was on its south-west side; a little to the left from his vantage point. Two deep-brown skinned men were standing guard in front of the gate. They were armed with a spear and a machete-like weapon with the blade curving inward at its tip. With a grim smile, Killian traced the curve of the metal hook on his left wrist with his fingers. He soon noticed that two more guards were making periodic rounds of the perimeter from opposite directions. Thinking that it might be safer to wait until it was darker before he ventured out of the forest, Killian decided to spend the next few hours concealed on the treetop.

Occasionally sipping rum from his flask, Hook made careful note of the time it took for the guards to make a circuit. The wall itself did not seem too high, and he did not think he would have any problems getting over it. It did not appear that the denizens of Lemuria feared any real threat to their Temple. A sum total of four guards to guard their precious treasure didn't seem like much. Or perhaps _he_ was the one underestimating the power of the Nagas. Killian patted his pocket, feeling the harmonica Pan had given him—he hoped the enchantment would work as promised.  

Hook did not notice anyone entering the temple, but there were carts passing along the road that bordered the western end, and he saw the occasional peasant walking past the temple on some business. It was hot and sultry, and mosquitoes seemed bent on eating him alive. He wound his scarf around his neck to protect the exposed skin from their attack.

Hook wondered if magic was needed to wield the Seeing Stone. It would certainly be very helpful if he could use the object to ensure that he got his revenge. Despite having a couple of aces up his sleeve, Hook knew that it would not be an easy matter to best the Dark One. Perhaps the Seeing Stone would point him to the best path. He might be able to snatch a few minutes to use the Stone while the Nagas were knocked out, and before he took the portal back to Neverland and Pan. Once the Stone was in Pan’s hands, Hook felt certain that the boy would never let him use it unless he agreed to another deal. That was the last thing Hook wanted.

Soon, it got very dark, and the temperature dropped a little; Killian judged it was close to midnight. The woodland noises had increased in intensity, and he felt that it might be safer for him to leave the forest now. He had seen some spotted deer wandering about the forest, and had no desire to encounter any of its predators. It was time to start his mission. Hook got down from the tree and lit a special torch he had brought with him. It gave out very little light—only bright enough for him to see the next few paces. It would appear to anyone looking in his direction merely as a firefly’s spark.

Once he got to the edge of forest, he snuffed out his torch. The flickering firelight of the temple-torches would be sufficient illumination for his purposes. There seemed no one about but the guards—even the carts had stopped passing. Hook knew he had barely five minutes for the next stage of operations. Choosing a section of the wall that was momentarily unguarded, he ran stealthily towards it and flung a weighted rope across the top. It went over the edge. Pulling at the rope to make sure it held taut, Hook started climbing. As he had suspected, the sculptures adorning the façade offered several footholds and handholds, and he was soon on top of the wall, which was wide enough for him to crouch. He quickly pulled up the rope from the ground and had jumped down onto the other side before the guards on the way back from their rounds spotted him.

The interior of the temple was bathed in shadows. Hook lit his torch again, and tried to make out the different stone structures. He had taken some time to study the temple plan while sitting on the tree, and he now tried to correlate what he remembered with the structures in front of him. As he silently flitted from shadow to shadow, he thought he was able to recognize them. One of the larger buildings was lighted with flaming torchlight, and it appeared to be the central edifice that held the Seeing Stone. As he put out his own torch and drew closer, he could see two more men standing guard in front of the door. He cursed under his breath.

Hook circled around and approached the building from the rear. Its windows were high enough above the ground so he would not be visible to anyone looking outside. When he reached the right corner of the building near the front end, he slid his satchel off his shoulder and propped it up against the wall in the shadows. Hook then crouched down, and gently prying-out some loose stones from the paved walkway, pocketed them. Using the carvings and columns etched on the stone facade for leverage once more, he climbed up the side of the building so he was positioned well above-ground. Slowly, he let a couple of the stones roll down along the side of the building onto the ground below. They fell down with a small clatter. Any guard worth his salt would notice and walk over to investigate.

As expected, he heard a murmur of voices, followed by single pair of footsteps. A man walked over to the side of the building, and looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise. It was hard to see anything clearly in the dark, and the guard had not brought a light with him. Hook let another small stone clatter down along the side of the wall. Curious, the man stepped forward and looked up to investigate. Hook immediately jumped on top of him, and muffling his mouth with his arm, pressed down firmly on his throat with his hand until the man lost consciousness.

Hook heard the other guard calling out for his friend, and after a moment, walking over to investigate the matter as well. Predicting that he could not count on the element of surprise this time, Hook pressed himself against the wall, cutlass drawn, and pointing down and out.

The second guard peered around the edge, spear pointing out, and machete gripped on his other hand. Seeing his companion lying face up on the ground unconscious, he made a startled exclamation in a strange language, and slowly moved towards his fallen colleague.

Hook moved with lightning speed. He curved his hook around the handle of the guard’s out-thrust spear and pulled it down, while pressing the sharp end of his cutlass at the man’s throat.

“Make a noise, and I’ll slice your throat,” warned Hook.

The guard immediately let go of his spear, and it slid off Killian’s hook onto the ground. Simultaneously, he brought up his machete in a backward swing, the curved tip of the heavy metal blade thrusting away the cutlass held to his throat. Hook’s body swung back a little with the force of the push.

Pulling back quickly, Killian looped his hook around the guard’s right arm and forced it down. He slashed down at the guard’s other arm at the wrist. The man gasped in pain, but did not let go of his machete. He pushed at Hook from the side, and swung out his weapon, striking Hook with a glancing blow to his chest with the flat end of the weapon. Hook grunted and stepped back, bending over slightly in pain.

The guard rushed at him screaming, and lifted the machete up high to deliver a swinging blow. As the blade came down, Hook swung up cutlass in a graceful arc. The blades clanged as they met. The machete was no doubt lethal, but Killian’s cutlass was a lighter and faster weapon. They wrestled for a short span of time, turning around in a half-circle until the guard’s back was against the wall of the building.

Both men were panting heavily from the exertion. Hook had to end this fast, or he risked attracting more attention. Pulling closer to the guard, he pressed against the machete with his blade, and raised his left arm, pretending to attack the man with his hook. With the guard’s attention focused on countering the attack, Hook head-butted him backward against the building. The guard hit his head against a sculpture that jutted out from the wall with a crack. He slumped down to the ground unconscious, and the machete fell away from his hand.

Breathing hard, Hook checked the man. There was blood at the back of his skull, but he did not seem too heavily injured. He dragged the other guard, who was still passed out, closer to his companion. Hook searched them and pocketed an ornate key he found on one of their persons. He then tied their hands and legs together with some rope. He tore his scarf in two, and wound the scraps of cloth around their mouths tightly, thrusting a little bit of the cloth into their mouth to keep them from calling out for help once they’d regained consciousness.

Hook stood up and thrust his cutlass back into the scabbard. He picked up his satchel and swung it on his shoulder once more. He then took out the harmonica from his pocket, and carefully stepped around the edge of the building. He could not tell whether anyone within had heard the commotion, but there was no one about. He walked up to the front door, and found it closed and locked. He tried the key he had taken from the guard on the lock, and it fit. He turned it, and pushed the door open. Taking a deep breath, Hook stepped over the threshold.

He was in.

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! I was teaching a summer course, and didn’t get much time for writing (or sleeping—haha). Hope you enjoy! Many thanks again to anywhoozles for her excellent beta-skills.
> 
> *codependentrelationship made a fanart for this scene. Please check it out at http://aloha-4-ever.tumblr.com/post/96261909985/codependentrelationship-and-time-is-never


	3. A Sweet Mocking Mouth

She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth.—J.M. Barrie, _Peter Pan_

***

_Killian had spent all day seeing to the restocking and repairs of the Jolly Roger. He arrived at the tavern in time for an evening meal, only to find that Milah was away on some errand. After finishing his meal, he stepped outside the back door to await her arrival. He saw her walking towards the building shortly._

_“Hello, lass!” said Killian, pulling her behind the door as she came near._

_“You startled me,” said Milah, and she pressed her herself against the wall as Killian stepped close._

_“My apologies,” he whispered as he ran his fingers down her hair in a mild caress._

_“What… what are you doing?” she asked, a little breathless._

_“I brought you something,” said Killian. He extracted something from his pocket and held it up. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the object and back at him. It was an ornamental hair comb set with rubies in the form of a flower. “These rubies are from Agrabah.”_

_“Do you always carry around jewelry to give to women you meet at each port?” asked Milah._

_“Would you care if I did?” he asked, fixing her with a look._

_“Perhaps I would,” replied Milah._

_“I had them set this morning, at the local craftsman’s. I thought the rubies would make a splendid adornment for your beautiful hair,” said Killian with a smile._

_“You can’t… I can’t accept this,” said Milah._

_“Of course, you can,” said Killian. He reached up and gently inserted the comb into the bun of twisted black hair that lay at the nape of her neck, and said, “Lovely!”_

_“Thank you,” said Milah. She looked a little flustered. Killian stepped back a pace, and said, “Shall we?” as he held open the door of the tavern for her. Still in a daze, Milah stepped in and went behind the counter to finish her work._

_“I’ll be waiting for you,” said Killian, and went back to where some of his crew members were seated, and ordered a pint of beer from a passing wench._

_She came by about an hour later. She seemed in really high spirits, and joined in with relish at their card games and play. He saw the man Wilson starting at them from across the room, but unlike the night before, he did not dare to come closer._

_Shadows deepened outside as the revelry continued. His crew was in a boisterous mood. They were leaving port the next day, and Killian had sanctioned a double allowance—their last raid had been particularly profitable, and the men clearly wanted to make the most of the time they had left on land. A pirate’s life was exhilarating and full of peril, and one had to love the open seas in order to be a sailor, but even the most hardened of seafarers enjoyed the occasional respite on land, where they could stretch their legs and indulge in pleasures without concern over rations or daily chores. And so, the liquor flowed, and the stakes of their card and dice games climbed higher and higher, as the men tried to wring the utmost pleasure out of the night._

_Milah seemed to be in a fever of spirits as well. She was quite comfortable fraternizing with his crew, and laughed loudly at every anecdote. She too seemed to want to make the night something to remember. Killian wished he could stay just a little longer in the port town and indulge in the company of the laughing, vivacious woman by his side. But although Milah was clearly attracted to him, she seemed hesitant to go beyond flirtation, and Killian was not the kind to push a woman past her level of comfort._

_They were in the middle of a particularly exciting game when a man interrupted them saying, “Milah! Milah! It’s time to go.”_

_Milah looked up with a mixture of resignation and annoyance, and said, “Good! So go.”_

_“Who’s this?” asked Killian, expecting it to be another “well-intentioned” neighbor of Milah’s. Apparently, the town was filled with busybodies!_

_“It’s no one,” replied Milah dismissively. “It’s just my husband.”_

_Killian looked with interest at the man who had injured himself and turned tail on battle at the behest of a seer, which in any case seemed like a tall tale spun in order to justify his cowardice._

_“Oh! He’s a tad taller than you described,” observed Killian, and everyone laughed._

_The man seemed uncomfortable, but continued, “Please, you have responsibilities.”_

_“You mean, like being a man, and fighting in the ogre wars,” challenged Milah. “Other wives became honored widows while I became lashed to the village coward. I need a break. Run home, Rumple. It’s what you’re good at.”_

_She took a sip of her drink, when another—softer, gentler—voice said, “Mama?”_

_Milah’s face fell as a little boy of seven or eight was revealed to be standing behind Milah’s husband._

_“Bae!” said Rumple. “You were supposed to wait outside.”_

_This was unexpected._

_Milah immediately set her drink on the table, and went to her son. Her face had gone white, and Killian had seen the prickle of tears in the corner of her eyes. He watched as the three people left the tavern. Milah did not turn back to look at Killian, or wish him goodbye._

_Killian felt unsettled as he drained his flagon in a gulp._

_***_

_Killian reached his ship around two in the morning. The crew men on watch lowered the gangplank when they recognized him, and greeted him as he stepped on board._

_One of them held out a brown packet to him and said, “A lad dropped this off for you, Cap’n.”_

_Killian took the packet and stepped into his cabin, a little unsteady on his feet. He lit a lantern, and a mild yellow light flitted across the room, chasing shadows to the corners. The captain struggled to get out of his vest. It finally came off, and he tossed it on top of a chair with a sigh of relief. He got ready for bed without further mishap and poured himself a glass of water. As he drank, his eye fell on the packet his crew member had thrust into his hand. Mildly interested, Killian undid the parcel. The jeweled comb he had given Milah that morning slid out of the packet onto his hand. Killian blinked. There was an accompanying note._

_With a sigh, Killian stepped to his wash-bowl and splashed water on his face to try and clear his mind a little. Wiping his face, he picked up the note and took it to bed. He lay down on his cot and opened it._

_It read: “You opened to me visions of adventure and excitement. But that can never be my lot in life. I’m returning your gift. I know you meant to be kind, but it was cruel. I’m the wife of a spinner—tied to the village coward. I can’t be seen wearing such expensive things. Please don’t come to the tavern tomorrow. Milah.”_

_Killian fell back on his pillows with a groan. He had been thoughtless—insensitive. He had flirted with Milah as with any other pretty women. He had had dalliances with many a blushing maiden and married woman—but none of them had been in a state of melancholy and despair like Milah clearly was. He ought not to have given her the ornament. It had been an impulsive gesture—he had wanted to cheer her up. He knew from experience that the worst thing one could give someone was false hope. And yet, he had done just that—he had given Milah false hope. He groaned. He heard the stomp of boots that signaled the return of his crew from the taverns. Well, it was a good thing they were leaving port soon. It would not do to linger in this town, thought Killian, as he fell into a disturbed sleep._

***

Hook found himself in a narrow corridor dimly lit by torches placed at sporadic intervals on wall-brackets. The path seemed to lead to the interior of the temple. Hook gripped the harmonica tightly in his hand and walked forward. The floor curved up to the walls sharply on either side, which meant he had to walk right in the middle of the path in order to stay strictly vertical. However, with all the time he spent on a ship, the tilt did not bother him, and he was able to proceed rapidly. There were statuettes and carvings on the walls, and paths led away to the left and right at regular intervals. Hook kept to the straight path, hoping he was going in the right direction. He reasoned to himself that a valuable object would most likely be kept in a central chamber. He could hear a faint trickle of water somewhere, and his skin prickled with nervous anticipation. He expected someone—or something—to jump out at him at any moment.

The path led to a large sunken courtyard lined with columns. Ahead, Hook saw a pair of closed wooden doors with ornate patterns carved on it. In the middle of the courtyard was a low stone pool with water lily plants in full blossom. Milah had loved water lilies. A current of cool air wafted from above, and Hook looked up wonderingly. The high ceiling was open, and he saw the stars of the night sky twinkling down at him. It was beautiful. Stooping, he plucked a deep pink blossom and put it in his satchel.

Shaking himself from his reflections, Hook walked up to the doors, pressed his ears to the crack, and listened. He could hear some sort of activity within. Determining to put any Nagas that were inside out of commission before he went in, Hook blew into the harmonica. As the enchanted music played, Hook heard the thump of several bodies hitting solid surfaces in quick succession. After a moment, Hook slowly pushed the doors open and stepped over the threshold.

He was in a room about the same size of the courtyard outside. The walls were lined with shelves filled with scrolls of parchment. There were occasional stone benches on the perimeter of the room with various objects lying on top. Hook saw someone slumped against one of the benches, face down. Ink was slowly dripping down on to the floor from an upset inkwell. There was a small shrine-like alcove in the center with an open entrance in front, and two prone figures lay on the floor by the shrine.

Hook took all this in with a few moments of rapid observation. He stepped up to the shrine, and gave a fleeting glance at the prone forms. Despite himself, he was unable to tear his gaze away immediately. The Nagas, for that must be what they were, were mesmerizingly lovely. He could understand the comparison to mermaids. Their upper bodies were human and brown-hued as the guards. Their waists tapered off into sinuous serpentine tails patterned with magnificently colored scales. The two lying on the floor were women. They were clothed in gold-embroidered silk, and bedecked with richly ornamented jewelry. Hook tore his gaze away from them, and entered the shrine.

On a small raised pedestal inside the shrine lay a shiny black orb about the size of a grapefruit. This had to be the Seeing Stone. “ _If not, Pan has bloody well got to be content with whatever_ this _does_ ,” thought Hook. The orb was not covered or protected in any way to prevent it from rolling off, and was placed on top of a parchment that had words in a strange script written on it. Hook carefully lifted the sphere from the platform with his hand and hook. It did not set off any alarms as he had half-feared. Killian released a breath he had not realized he had been holding, and placed the orb within his satchel, careful not to damage the lily. After a moment’s hesitation, he rolled up the parchment and secreted it away as well.

As Hook turned around and stepped outside the shrine, a soft rustle was all the warning he had before a solid object launched itself at him. He instinctively struck out his arm, and his wrist with the intact hand was immediately caught and held in a vice-like grip by the attacker, a Naga woman. As he was holding the harmonica in his palm, Hook was unable to bring it to his lips. He struggled to stay upright, and felt his legs becoming encased within the serpentine coils of the Naga. She was trying to get a hold of his other arm as well, but Hook pushed back with force. As he gazed at the face of the woman, he saw wide angry eyes, and mouth twisted into a snarl that revealed molars that were just a little too sharp.

She said something to him in a language he did not recognize.

“Sorry, I don’t speak snake,” Hook panted out, trying to maneuver out of her grip.

“Fortunately for you, I speak human,” said the woman in an accented voice, also breathing heavily.

“Lucky me,” gasped Hook, kicking out his legs to try and loosen her hold on him. His satchel was jangling against his back in an irritating manner that was reducing his dexterity.

“Don’t think you can profit from your theft, human. The Nagas are the true masters of The Stone,” she ground out, and tightened her grip on his wrist. In pain, Hook’s hold on the harmonica loosened, and it fell down with a clatter.

“That’s my problem to worry about,” said Hook, and taking her by surprise, abruptly pushed his upper body forward so that they lost their balance and fell to the floor, still entwined. He dug his hook into the serpentine lower half of her body, and twisted. The Naga screamed out in pain, and loosened her hold on his legs, but her grip on his wrist did not slacken. Killian pulled the hook out of her body, and reached for the harmonica with it. Hooking the comb of the instrument, he pulled it up to his mouth and blew into it. The Naga lost consciousness immediately upon hearing the musical enchantment. Hook extricated himself from her hold as swiftly as possible, and adjusting his satchel, ran outside to the courtyard.

He could not risk wasting time to look into the stone orb now. He had to get back to Neverland immediately. Stuffing the harmonica into a pocket, Hook retrieved the second magic bean and threw in on the ground. A portal opened up, and thinking of Neverland, Hook jumped in.

***

Hook landed face-down on sand. He got up coughing and wiping the sand from his face. The familiar shores of Neverland greeted him as he looked around, and Hook could not help a tinge of disappointment on returning to the accursed island, despite having barely just escaped with his life. There was blood coating his hook. He wiped it on his satchel to get some of the blood off as best as he could, and took out the Seeing Stone.

It was dark and smooth like a large shining marble. Killian brought the orb close to his face and peered into it. All he could see was his face reflected back at him. He rotated the orb around in his hands, and tried muttering variations of _Show me how to kill the crocodile… how do I fulfill my revenge… I want to succeed in my revenge…_ But nothing.

He almost dropped the orb when he was startled by a voice behind him saying, “You need magic to use it.”

He was unsurprised to see Peter Pan when he turned around. Hook frowned at him.

“Well done, Captain! I knew you’d get the Stone,” said Pan, stretching out his hand for the Stone.

“What about the deal we made?”

“I do mean to keep to its terms. But as I said before, I might need you for one more job before I Iet you leave,” said Pan, and made summoning motions with his fingers. Hook reluctantly held out the stone to the boy. Pan took the object with a manic gleam in his eye. He focused his gaze on the object for a few moments, and suddenly moving images started appearing in its depths. A large expanse of ocean… huge metal bridges spanning them…  buildings of tall yet plain design… intricate roadways with tiny objects moving on them with great speed… and many, many more scenes that flicked by too fast to see clearly.

“What is that realm?” asked Hook, fascinated.

Suddenly realizing he had an audience, Pan abruptly tore his gaze away from the orb and the flickering images faded away. He seemed exultant.

“I have an idea. Or at least, I know someone who might… Looks like I might need your services for yet another mission, after all,” said Pan.

“When do you want me to leave?” asked Hook, eager to get the next job done and leave Neverland for good.

“Patience, Captain! I still need to work out the details. After all, we have all the time in the world, do we not?”

“Not outside Neverland,” muttered Hook.

“I’ll be in touch,” said Pan, and began to walk away.

“Wait a minute,” said Hook. Pan turned back to face him.

“I would like to use that Seeing Stone,” said Hook gesturing at the object with his hand. “I did go through a lot of trouble to acquire it, you know…”

“I don’t remember that being part of our deal,” said Pan.

“So let’s make another one,” said Hook.

“Look who’s all eager to make deals, now!” taunted Pan.

“That’s how _you_ like to play, isn’t it?” asked Hook.

“Oh yes! What’s life without a little play?” said the boy laughing. “How about you do _two_ more missions for me in exchange for a chance to use the Stone?”

“I don’t want to be stuck forever doing jobs for you,” said Hook in irritation.

“Well… take some time and think about my offer, then. It’s not like there’s anything else you have that I might want,” said Pan.

Pan walked away. Hook felt irritated at the boy and annoyed with himself. But in reality, there was nothing he could do. He didn’t have magic to use the Stone, and neither did his crew, nor Tinker Bell, despite being a fairy ( _former_ fairy). Pan obviously was not the kind to dole out favors without some benefit to himself. Well… neither was he for that matter. This particular quest had not taken much time. Even though it had been risky, he had made it out alive. He excelled at surviving after all. It was not fear for his life that made him reluctant to accept Pan’s new offer. He did not know when Pan would ask him to leave on the next mission, or how long that might take. Was it wise to agree to do yet another task for him?

Hook did not relish that fact that he was working for the little demon, and helping him along in his nefarious schemes, whatever they were. He felt a slight twinge of guilt wondering what Pan might use the information he obtained from the Seeing Stone for. But he could not afford to let himself be troubled over that. Nothing mattered but his revenge. He kept himself alive day after day with no other object in mind, and he could not afford distractions over needless concerns.

He needed to get back to Jolly Roger and think things through. Hook walked towards the spot where he had moored his boat. When he reached it, he threw his satchel in, and untied the boat from where it was fasted to a rock. He started pushing the boat towards the water, when he saw Felix emerging from the tree-line and hailing him.

One of Pan’s minions, Felix looked a little older that the other Lost Ones in appearance. But really, what did age matter in Neverland? Everyone was stuck in one endless stretch of stasis. Hook had met Felix soon after his return to Neverland. He had been part of a hoard of boys who had swarmed the Jolly Roger, and fought with him and his crew until Pan had put a stop to it.

“What do you want?” asked Hook, pausing from his exertions.

“Pan sent me to get his harmonica back,” said Felix, in his familiar soft drawl.

“Ah, that,” said Hook and handed him the instrument. Felix took it from him, but did not move away.

“What now?” asked Hook.

“Did it work on the Nagas? What did they look like?” asked Felix.

Hook raised his eyebrows. “Were you eavesdropping on our conversation before?”

“I don’t have to,” said Felix with a chuckle. “Pan discusses everything with me. I know you went to get the Seeing Stone for Pan.”

“Then, why don’t you discuss this with him as well?” asked Hook, and started to push the boat again.

“I know you heard it,” said Felix, raising his voice slightly. “He told me. We had a good laugh about it, too.”

“Who told you I heard what?” asked Hook, straightening himself.

“Pan knew you’d heard his music when he was waiting for you this morning,” said Felix.

“So? I’m not hard of hearing.”

“It’s enhanted music. Only lost little boys and orphans can hear it,” said Felix in a mocking tone. Hook remembered the flashes of his childhood that had filled his mind on hearing the music. “I don’t hear it myself,” added Felix. “I don’t go prancing around like the rest of the fools do when Pan plays on the harmonica.”

“Not so lost are you?”  

“Maybe I’m not,” said Felix.

“You think Pan cares about you?” asked Hook.

“He knows my worth. That’s why I’m his second in command,” asserted Felix with a tinge of pride.

“Pan cares for nothing and nobody but himself. He’ll throw you over like a used rag when you’re of no use to him,” said Hook.

“You don’t know him,” scoffed Felix.

“That’s your lookout. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” said Hook. Felix scowled and walked off with the harmonica.

As Hook rowed back to the Jolly, he wondered at the loyalty Pan had inspired in the boy. Perhaps it was not surprising, considering everything. After all, the lost ones lived an isolated life; they were fully dependant on Pan and on the Island’s magic for survival. When they had nowhere else to go and nothing to belong to, was it surprising that they got attached to Pan? Felix’s curiosity about the Nagas suggested that despite everything, living on an unchanging island wholly cut off from the outside world was not wholly satisfying, even to someone who thought he held Pan’s confidences. Perhaps he could turn it to his advantage one day…

***

Hook was back in his cabin. He was hungry and tired, but did not want to go to sleep before having a wash. He ate some food—a simple meal of fresh-caught fish, wild rice, and berries—as he waited for a hot bath to be prepared. A metal tub was brought into the cabin and filled with hot water. Soap and towels were laid out for him on the side. Quickly finishing his meal, Hook stripped down, and gingerly stepped into the tub. He sat down and rested his back against the wall of the tub, and let the steaming hot water sooth his body as he scrubbed himself with the sandal wood soap that Milah had liked to use.

Milah had loved baths. It was not a luxury they could afford too frequently when they were in the open seas. Fresh water was precious, after all, and had to be conserved. On the occasions when she did, Milah liked to strew rose petals in the bath water, and the cabin and her skin would smell of roses and sandal wood soap for days afterward. He would join her sometimes, and they would squeeze comfortably into the cramped tub, content as kings. There was no need for Pan’s music to bring back memories. Hook sighed and let himself soak in them.

When the water grew cooler, Hook got out and toweled off. He rinsed out the blood and grime from his hook as well. He put on a dressing gown and called for a crew member to clear the bath away. He laid out his leather coat and trousers for cleaning as well. He opened his satchel to take out the lily he had brought back from the temple. As he took the flower out of the bag, he noticed the scroll from the temple lying beneath it. He had forgotten all about it. He first placed the lily in a bowl of water by the window. Then, he took the scroll out and smoothed it out. As he studied it, he felt that he had seen that script somewhere before.  

He browsed through the collection of books in his cabin. Many of the books had belonged to Liam, but Killian had acquired several in his travels as well. Sorting through the collection, he soon found what he was looking for—a slightly disheveled volume labeled, “The Anklet: A story of Love and Honor, with line-by-line translation from the original text by the poet, Suxa.” Killian had read the book a couple of times. It told the tale of a woman who had burned down a city to avenge the execution of her husband falsely accused of a crime. The verses in the original script were set out on the left half of the page, with its translation on its right. Comparing the parchment with the book, Killian realized that he had been right in his hunch: they were written in the same script.

Hook set to work to try and decipher the parchment by looking for words that corresponded with ones in the book. After working steadily for a couple of hours, Killian thought he had it. He looked at the words with a distressed frown. Translated, they said, “ _The Wisdom of the Stone is freely given. Use it with care, oh eager seeker! You will find what you look for, and it will stay by your side. If you steal the Stone from the Nagas, use it with fear, oh desperate seeker! You will find what you look for, but it shall slip away from your grasp._ ”

Had he ruined his quest by stealing the accursed object? No, the words did not apply to him. He may have been the one to steal the stone, but he had not yet used it. On the other hand, the words were probably there just to discourage theft. It was quite likely that there was no actual enchantment on the Stone against those who had stolen the object. He had no way of finding the truth, unless he asked Pan. Pan had already used the Stone, and probably would not take kindly to knowing about the warning in the parchment too late. He might even break his deal with Hook if he felt that his mission had been compromised beyond repair.

On the whole, Hook decided not to risk using the Stone, or telling Pan about the warning in the scroll. Had not Milah’s husband listened to the words of a Seer and turned back from battle? That had been the start of Milah’s misery. Hook did not want to make a similar mistake. He did not want to be directed to his revenge by a Prophetic Stone, only to have it ripped away from him. Might it not be for the best if he took his chances and went back to the Enchanted Forest after completing the next mission for Pan? After all, he had got the information about the Dagger from Baelfire. If he acquired the Dagger, he would be able to kill the Dark One. Neverland had supplied him with yet another weapon in the form of the deadly Dreamshade. How fitting would it be if he used the poison that had cost him his brother, to destroy that monster that had killed his Love?

Before he could change his mind, Hook held up the parchment to a candle flame and tossed it into the fireplace as the edges curled up. As the fire consumed it, the parchment exploded in a burst of green flame.

“Well, that’s that,” said Hook. He was exhausted. Yawning, he tossed off the dressing gown and put on a pair of cotton pants. He picked up The Anklet, and settling comfortably in his bed, he read until he drifted off to asleep.

“The Canopy has shattered!  
And the Scepter, bent.  
To the lies of a crafty deceiver,  
My ears, I lent.  
Am I the king? Nay— _I_ am the thief.  
Fallen is the Rule  
By my own hand.  
So, let my life be forfeit,  
In this glorious land.”*

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Translated from the Silappadikaram, which is a 2000 year old Tamil literary work. I based Lemuria on ancient Tamil fable and folklore. I felt that there would be people crossing over between our world and the fairy tale lands at different times and places in history, and bringing books and things with them. 
> 
> Many thanks to onceuponawesteros/InsertWordHere for beta-reading the chapter.
> 
> I would really appreciate feedback/review.


	4. It is the kiss I gave her

"See," he said, "the arrow struck against this. It is the kiss I gave her. It has saved her life."

—J.M. Barrie, _Peter and Wendy_

* * *

_Captain Killian Jones stood at the ship’s wheel, looking at the distant horizon through his telescope. The skies were clear and blue, and there was a nice, steady wind blowing in the northeasterly direction to speed their departure. His crew members were making preparations for embarking, and Killian walked around the ship, doing the final inspection before they were to set sail._

_As Killian turned a corner, he stopped short at the sight that met his eyes. Milah was standing in the middle of the deck, wide-eyed and trembling. The sunlight glinted off her dark hair, making it shine like burnished copper. Killian quickened his steps toward her._

_“Lass—are you alright?” he asked in concern._

_Milah’s eyes faltered for a moment and she looked down. She then lifted her eyes to look straight at him up and whispered, “Take me with you! Oh, please—take me away from here.”_

_A gleam of unshed tears pooled beneath her eyes. Killian was taken aback. A quick glance told him that his crew had stopped their various tasks and were staring at them with curious eyes._

_“Did I ask you bilge rats to stop? Get back to work,” he barked. The crew scurried back to their errands, but Killian knew that they would still be overheard._

_“Come with me,” said Killian, and led her to the Captain’s cabin. A few wolf-whistles and comments, the likes of “Captain’s getting ready to hoist the mainsail” floated to them as he walked Milah down the steps into his cabin, and shut the trapdoor above. Milah had gone red, and she pulled her arm away from Killian’s grip._

_“Ignore them,” said Killian, and gently led her to sit on a chair. He leaned against his desk facing her. “Now tell me, lass, you wrote to me last night saying you didn’t even want to see me again. Now, you’re asking to sail with me. Is anything wrong?”_

_Milah looked down. “The life I have now—it isn't a life—not for me. I’ll go mad if I stay here any longer. I want a fresh start as far away from here as possible.”_

_“We pirates sail where we will and answer to no crown. But I must warn you, lass—a pirate’s life is no sinecure. It invites bloodshed and danger.”_

_“I’ve had enough safety and security,” said Milah, with a curl of her lip. “All my troubles began with my husband’s excessive concern over those very things. I’ve asked him several times—begged him—for us to leave the village and start over elsewhere, where the stigma of him being a war deserter wouldn’t haunt our lives. He refuses to leave. Last night, after I got back from the Tavern, I pleaded with him again. But his answer was the same as usual. He doesn’t even have the nerve to step outside the village anymore. I do. I don’t want to look back to this moment and regret forever that I didn’t take the only opportunity to escape my life that came my way.”_

_When Killian remained silent, Milah’s expression faltered. “Or, if you just take me to the next port—I will eventually find a way to pay you back for my passage. I can find work at a tavern somewhere . . .”_

_Killian held up his hand to interrupt her. “Lass, I’m not asking for money. I will gladly to take you anywhere you want if you really wish to leave.” He paused for a moment. “I just . . . your son . . .”_

_Milah’s face immediately crumpled in a pained expression._

_“I barely spend time with him these days,” said Milah in a whisper, her voice laced with bitterness and despair. “While I’m slogging away at the Tavern, my husband is off chasing dragonflies with our son. Half the housework is left unfinished . . . By the time they get home, I am exhausted and riled up; I end up yelling at Rumple in front of my son. It upsets Bae. I see it in his eyes—in the way he clings to his father even when I’m around.”_

_“Don’t take this the wrong way, love,” said Killian. “But, would you trust your son with a man like that?”_

_Milah paused for a moment before answering him. She was knotting and unknotting the edge of her scarf restlessly. “About a year or so before, my son was bitten by a snake and his life was in terrible danger. We didn’t have any money to pay for the cure. I was hoping my husband would be induced to act bravely to save his life. One act of courage on his part would have made up for years of cravenness.”_

_“And he didn’t do it?”_

_“No. He sold our unborn second child to save Baelfire’s life. Bae was spared, but Rumple destroyed our future. However little my husband has cared about_ _my needs and wishes, I know he will always put Baelfire first. He will take good care of our son.”_

_“I’m sorry, love.”_

_Milah was now crying in earnest. “I love my son,” said Milah amidst sobs. “But whenever I look at him, I’m reminded of every single choice my husband robbed me of by using Baelfire to mask his cowardice. And I loathe myself for it.”_

_Killian rubbed her shoulders soothingly as she struggled for composure. Only the vilest of men would sell his children like chattel. Killian’s own father had sold him and his brother Liam into servitude when they were but little, in order to escape his debts. Their father’s actions had haunted the brothers for the rest of their lives. They had escaped bondage because of Liam’s courage and nobility, only to jump from the proverbial frying pan into the fire. They had joined the king’s navy, learned how to be proper gentlemen, have_ _good form, and all that it entailed. But none of that had protected Liam from falling victim to the king’s perfidy._

_Killian did not give more than a fleeting thought to how much self-deception, if any, was involved in Milah’s confidence that her son would be well-cared of by his father if she left. But he did recognize a trapped soul when he saw one. He felt compassion for this woman whose fiery spirit was being quenched by her caged life with a man who took away her choices and refused to make any compromises. Killian decided that he would do everything in his power to help her get away from an unhappy life with such a man._

_When Milah had somewhat quieted down, Killian handed her a cloth to dry her tears, and poured her a glass of water._

_There was a knock at the door above._

_Killian frowned. He raised his voice and said, “What is it?”_

_“Captain, it’s urgent,” said the voice of Haggerstone._

_Killian growled, “Whatever it is, it had better be good.”_

_“It’s the man we saw at the Tavern yesterday. He says he’s looking for his wife.”_

_Killian heard Milah suck in a deep breath behind him. “I’ll be up in a minute.”_

_“Please don’t send me away with him,” said Milah, tensing._

_“Love, no one’s going to force you to do anything you don’t want to,” reassured Killian. “What would you like me to tell him?”_

_“I don’t know . . .” said Milah. “I . . . I don’t want to see him.”_

_“Alright,” said Killian. “You stay here below deck. I’ll take care of it.”_

_Milah nodded._

* * *

_Killian leaned nonchalantly against the mast as a crew member brought Rumplestiltskin up on deck. In broad daylight, he looked even more wretched than he had seemed in the dim light of the tavern._

_“On your feet for the Captain,” said the crewman, as he hauled Rumple to his feet and thrust his walking stick at him._

_“I—I remember you fr—from the bar,” said the man._

_“It's always nice to make an impression,” Killian smirked. “Where are my manners? We haven't been formally introduced. Killian Jones. Now what are you doing aboard my ship?”_

_“W—well, you have my wife.”_

_“I've had many a man's wife.” The crew chuckled._

_“No, you . . . you see, we . . . we have a son, and he needs his mother.”_

_It did take a certain amount of foolhardy pluck to walk up to a pirate ship and ask for one’s wife back, thought Killian. Perhaps this was the final push the man needed to find his courage. One act of bravery on her husband’s part might not change Milah’s mind about leaving him and their son, but for the sake of the child, Killian would give the man one final opportunity to make amends. After all, Milah_ _had been prepared to start over with her coward of her husband, even after everything he’d done, if he had only been willing to move from the village._

_“I have a ship full of men who need . . . companionship,” said Killian, and the crew laughed uproariously._

_“I—I'm begging you. Please let her go.”_

_“I'm not much for bartering. That said, I do consider myself an honorable man, a man with a code. So . . . if you truly want your wife back”—Killian threw a sword in front of Rumple—“all you have to do is take her.”_

_The man looked terrified, and eyed the sword as though it was a venomous cobra about to strike. How had this man even enlisted for battle when he didn’t have the guts to pick up a bloody sword?_

_“Never been in a duel before, I take it? Well, it's quite simple, really. The pointy end goes in the other guy. Go on. Pick it up.”_

_Killian didn’t really want fight this man. It would be unsporting; an unequal contest of extremely short duration. All Killian wanted to see was if he would pick up the sword._

_Rumplestiltskin did nothing._

_Killian looked at him with contempt. What kind of a sad little man was too afraid to fight for his own wife?_

_“A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets,” Killian declared with finality._

_“Please, sir.” Rumple’s voice broke a little. “What am I going to tell my boy?”_

_“Try the truth. His father's a coward.”_

_Killian watched Rumple hobble away to the sound of the crew’s derisive laughter._

_A crew member, Watson, turned to Killian and said, “Who gets second dibs on the woman, Captain? Mebbe the rest of us should cut cards for it, eh?”_

_Killian swiftly drew back his arm and punched Watson squarely on the face. He toppled on to the deck like a ninepin and lay still._

_“Alright, you mangy curs! Listen up, and listen carefully.” Everyone quieted down and looked at him with wary expressions on their faces. “Milah is under my protection. Anyone who dares to touch her without her permission, or disrespects her in any way, will be whipped, keelhauled, and then made to walk the plank. Understand?”_

_There were murmurs of “Aye, Captain,” from the crew._

_“Now, hoist the mainsail. We leave at once.”_

_The crew hurried to obey, and in a short while, they pulled out of port and into open waters._

* * *

_Killian stood at the wheel, feeling the sea breeze caress his face as he stared at the ocean. Despite the years he had spent in servitude on a ship, Killian loved the sea. The undulating motion of the waves and the feel of the wind could always soothe the inner turmoil of his soul._

_Haggerstone walked up to him. Without any preface, he began “Why is the woman still onboard? What do you think you are doing, Killian?”_

_His first mate was the only man in the crew who was allowed the liberty to address the captain by his given name, and only did so in private. Milah had now been aboard the Jolly for a week, and she seemed to be holding up as well as could be expected._

_“I’m saving a woman from a loveless marriage,” replied Killian._

_“And you think it’s your responsibility to save her?”_

_“It is when she asks me to.”_

_Haggerstone gave Killian an exasperated look, and yet it was not unaffectionate. “It’s unlucky to have a woman on board. This is not going to end well.”_

_“That’s my lookout,” said Killian. “Take over the wheel. I’m going to my cabin.”_

_Haggerstone shook his head and sighed as he did._

* * *

_Killian descended the steps into his cabin. Milah looked up from braiding her hair and gave him a beautiful smile. Killian’s heart felt lighter at the sight._

_“Will you let me take you above deck? It’s glorious outside,” said Killian._

_Except for an hour here and there spent above deck, Milah had kept herself confined to his cabin. He had assured her of her safety with the crew. In light of his warning, the crew had treated her with respect and courtesy, which made Milah feel more and more comfortable about venturing above. She slept in his bed at nights, while he curled up on a hammock, despite her protests that she should be the one to do so._

_“In a little while, yes,” said Milah. “But first I would like to talk to you about something, Captain.”_

_Killian pulled up a chair and sat down by her._

_“I wanted to thank you for taking me with you,” said Milah. She held up her hand to stop Killian from interrupting her. “I also wanted to know when we would arrive at the next port.”_

_Killian felt a tinge of disappointment. “Eager to leave my ship, lass?”_

_“I—I don’t want to impose on you,” she faltered._

_Killian took her hand in his. “If you want me to set you down at the next port I will, love. But you are welcome to sail with me and my crew for longer, if you wish to.”_

_“What about your crewmen? What will they say to me continuing to stay on?”_

_“My crew knows better than to contradict my orders,” he said, frowning for a moment. “Besides, most of them have sailed with me for years. They are a loyal bunch.”_

_“I haven’t seen the ocean beyond our small port . . .” she said with longing._

_“There are cities where the air smells of spices, and women are carried on jeweled chairs.”_

_“It sounds wonderful.”_

_“Would you like to see that?”_

_Milah’s eyes gleamed. “I would love it above all things.”_

_“Now that we have settled that matter . . .” said the captain. “Let’s talk about another thing. You may call me Killian, alright? You don’t have to call me ‘Captain’.”_

_Milah smiled and nodded. “And you may call me Milah.”_

_“So, where would like to sail to first,_ Milah _?”_

_“Somewhere I can get clothes fit to sail,” she said, looking down ruefully at the dress she’d been wearing for the past week._

_Killian laughed. Gently raising her hand to his lips, giving her time to stop him if she wanted to, he placed a feather-soft kiss on her knuckles. “It shall be done.”_

_Milah’s breath hitched, and she blushed a deep red. Slowly, tremblingly, she brought her other hand up to his face and softly caressed him._

_Her touch was electric. Killian’s gaze dropped to her lips, and she licked them in response. They moved forward at the same time, caught the other’s eye, and stopped. The hesitancy he was feeling was absurd, but she was a fragile thing, and Killian did not want to hurt her._

_“Perhaps I ought to go above deck,” he whispered._

_“Or perhaps, you ought to stay,” returned Milah. With a soft smile, she pulled him in for a kiss._

* * *

Hook was seated by a window at a tavern, listening to a young woman singing a melodious sea shanty.

_“I'll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue_

_And it's hey, to the starboard, heave ho_

_Look out, lad, a mermaid be waiting for you_

_In mysterious fathoms below_

_Mysterious fathoms below . . .”_

A memory from one of his early days in Neverland assaulted him—steadying the ship during a sudden squall—an enchaining voice from out of the mists holding him and his crew entranced and unmoving as the ship was buffeted towards dangerous rocks—the singing abruptly ceasing—coming to his senses—and a mad rush to the helm to divert the Jolly from being dashed against the rocks and shipwrecked.

“That voice, Captain _. . ._ What was it?” Mr. Smee had asked.

“The most dangerous creature in all the seas: a mermaid,” he’d replied.

Hook was brought back to the present by the sound of applause as the young woman finished her song. He walked up to her and said, “I'd recognize that voice anywhere. You're the mermaid who nearly sank my ship.” The girl’s gaze faltered. She looked alarmed. “But you didn't. For that, I owe you a drink,” he finished.

With a relieved and grateful smile, the girl allowed him to lead her to a table. Hook called for a couple of pints of beer to be brought to the table.

The girl, Ursula, for that’s who she turned out to be—the daughter of the sea-god Poseidon—explained her predicament to Hook.

Recalling the incident Hook had alluded to, she added, “After I let you escape, my father said I had to obey his rules if I wanted to live in his ocean.”

“Ah, I see you don't take well to ultimatums.”

Ursula chuckled and pointed at an intricately patterned bracelet on her wrist. “I broke into his vault and stole this. It lets me walk on land. As long as I am not in the ocean, my father cannot force me to do anything.”

“Well, you're a brave lass,” said Hook with sincerity. The girl was young, but she had spirit, and refused to submit to unilateral authority. He could relate to those qualities very well.

“My father wasn't always so cruel, you know. He used to be happy. Listening to my mother and me sing used to bring him joy.”

“What changed, love?”

“My mother was killed by a pirate. That's why he forbade me to sing, except to guide sailors to their doom. He turned my voice into a weapon. But it's all I have left of my mother. Singing is the only way to keep her spirit alive.”

Killian’s own mother had died too long ago, but he did have a hazy memory of Liam and himself lying down with their heads on her lap as she sang them to sleep.

“You have a rare gift. Your voice can soothe even the most haunted soul,” he told Ursula.

“You really think so?” asked the girl eagerly.

“For almost a century, my every waking moment has been consumed by one thought—making an evil man pay for what he did to the woman I loved. Listening to your voice—took away that pain. Even if it was only for a brief moment.”

“That's all I ever wanted: to make people happy.”

“Well, that's what you're doing. So, why are you singing in this rat's nest?”

“I'm saving for passage to Glowerhaven. My mother said it was her favorite place to sing. I'm trying to earn enough gold to—”

“Oh, you don't need gold for that trip,” Hook assured her.

“I won't?”

“Not if I take you.”

Ursula looked touched. “You'd really do that?”

“Listen, I came here on an errand for Pan, which I completed this morning. I have a bean that is enchanted to take me to Neverland. Come along with me. Pan has promised to get me a portal back to the Enchanted Forest once I finished this job for him. The first thing I’ll do once we’re back in the Enchanted Forest is to take you to Glowerhaven.”

Ursula nodded happily. “I’ll go get my things and meet you outside the tavern.”

Hook settled his tab and stepped out. He sensed someone standing by the door moving quickly toward him. Before he could do more than raise his hook, he was grabbed by two men, and a hood was pulled over his head. The men dragged him to a secluded area, where one of them removed his hood.

Hook scoffed as his eyes fell on a dark man standing in front of him, trident in hand.

Poseidon.

“You dare lay your hands on me, you’re dead,” he warned. God or not, he would make him pay.

“You listen to me,” said Poseidon. “You are not taking my daughter to Glowerhaven.”

Hook chucked. “Well, threatening me isn't going to make her change her mind. She’ll find another way even if I don’t take her.”

Poseidon held out a small shell. “I don't need to change her mind. You do.”

“How's a seashell going to help me?”

Poseidon waved his trident over the seashell. It glowed briefly. “It’s now enchanted to take away her reason to leave: her voice. Or rather, her _singing_ voice. If she can't sing, she'll return to the sea, where she belongs.”

A cruel punishment indeed for someone with the gift of music.

“She told me what that voice means to her. I won't betray her, not since she spared my ship.”

“What if I could offer you a way to destroy the Dark One?”

“What do you know about my feud with the Crocodile?”

“I know you've spent a lifetime searching for a way to kill him. I can offer you magic that will finally set you free.”

“What kind of magic do you mean?”

“Squid ink. A single drop is potent enough to paralyze any being, even Rumplestiltskin.”

Hook was shaken. Getting the dagger from the Dark One would be child’s play once he had him paralyzed. The only other place to get squid ink was in Neverland, but Pan kept a tight hold of the supply. In all the centuries, his crew had never been able to capture a single magical squid, and it wasn’t for the lack of trying.

“All I have to do is steal your daughter's singing voice?”

“It's simple, pirate. Just show her how terrible humans really can be.”

* * *

They were back in Neverland and on the Jolly. Ursula was singing, much to the enjoyment of the crew. Hook made his way down the deck to her.

“Mr. Smee, clear the deck,” ordered Hook. “I'd like a moment alone with our guest.”

Smee whistled to signal the crew to leave Ursula and Hook alone. Ursula stopped her singing when she realized Hook wanted to talk to her.

“I hope you don't mind. I thought your crew might like something to work by.”

“Aye. It's beautiful. But I'm afraid I've got something to show you.” He held out his hand to reveal the shell that Poseidon had given him.

“I know what that is. Why do you have that? Please don't use it!” Ursula looked frightened.

“Don't worry. I won't,” Hook reassured. “But you must know—your father gave this to me. He thought you'd return home if you could no longer sing. In exchange for helping him, he offered me squid ink—a weapon that would finally let me get my revenge against the Dark One.”

“And you would sacrifice that prize for me?”

“I know that voice is the only thing you have left of your mother. If I had something left of my Milah _. . ._ ” he trailed off. “Look, I may be a pirate—but I have a code. And I promise to never take that voice from you.”

“But that means you'll not be able to get your revenge.”

“Not necessarily. You stole that bracelet from your father's vault. I'd wager that's where he keeps the squid ink.”

“You want me to steal it for you.”

“Once we get back to the Enchanted Forest, I'll take you to Glowerhaven and wherever else you want to go,” he promised.

“Then we can both get what we want,” said Ursula eagerly.

“Aye. Now you're thinking like a pirate,” he said and smiled.

* * *

Hook was waiting on the deck when Ursula returned. She had the squid ink with her.

“I trust that you didn't run into any trouble,” he asked.

“Nothing I couldn't handle.”

“I've waited a long time for this. I couldn't have done this without your help, Ursula. I’ll go get the portal from Pan. Then I’ll take you to the Enchanted Forest with me.”

“You're not taking her anywhere,” said a voice behind them.

Hook turned to see Poseidon and his men on the ship. His crew drew their swords immediately.

“Stand down, men,” said Hook. “This is between me and the sea king.”

“No! It's about me,” interrupted Ursula. “Hook told me what you asked him to do. You were trying to take away the only thing I have left of mother.”

“So I wouldn't lose you the way I lost her.” He then turned to Hook. “You may have fooled my daughter, but I know exactly what you are. You only care about one thing: your vengeance”

Poseidon pointed his trident at Hook. The squid ink disappeared from Hook’s hand and reappeared in Poseidon’s. “Now you'll never get it.”

“You have no idea what you've just done.” Furious, Hook attempted to draw his sword to strike Poseidon, but was frozen in place by the god.

“You dare attack a deity?”

“I don't have to kill you to make you suffer. I know I'm not the only one consumed by vengeance.”

With cold fury, Hook turned to Ursula and held the shell out. He could see the enchantment drawing Ursula’s voice into itself.

“No!” Ursula gave a heart-rending cry.

Hook felt a flash of guilt, which he resolutely pushed away. Turning back to Poseidon, he said, “Now you'll never sink another ship with this.”

“How could you? You said you had a code. You said you'd never steal my voice,” Ursula cried-out.

“That was before your father destroyed my chance at revenge. Now, I’ve destroyed his.”

“My father is a tyrant, but you're no better,” spat Ursula. She gestured at the shell. “Keep it. If this is what humans are like, no one deserves to hear my voice.”

With that, Ursula unfastened the enchanted bracelet from her wrist and jumped off the side of the ship. Her father called after her, but she had gone. Poseidon turned to Hook and ordered, “Give me the shell.”

“And give you the satisfaction of returning it to her?” Hook scoffed and tightened his hold on the enchanted sea-shell. He was determined to crush it if the god even lifted an eyebrow in its direction. “Now go. Before I destroy it and everything you hold dear.”

Once Poseidon and his men had cleared off, Hook went down to his cabin. He unlatched his hook from his brace, and used it to unlock a hidden panel in the wall where he kept some extremely valuable objects. He placed the enchanted shell inside and locked it, then refastened his hook. A mixture of rage and shame threatened to overwhelm him, and he struggled against it. For a brief moment, he wondered if revenge was worth the destruction of a young girl’s dreams. Was it really worth turning into a monster for the sake of destroying another? He glanced at the rings he wore on his hand—all keepsakes from people he had killed for various reasons on different occasions. No, he was not turning into a monster—he was already one. Only a monster _could_ destroy another monster. A good person going against beings like Pan and the Dark One would only be crushed and destroyed. Just like Liam, Milah, and countless others had been. And perhaps, one day, after he’d had his revenge, he would return Ursula’s voice to her. As for now, he would go to Pan, obtain the portal from the boy-demon, and get the hell out of Neverland.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!! I hope you enjoyed the update. :-) Many, many thanks to emmaswanchoosesyou/mearcats for the excellent beta job. If you read the chapter, please consider leaving a review. It feels like I'm writing into a void sometimes. ;-)


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